


Toda

by madame_alexandra



Category: NCIS
Genre: Catharsis, Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Friendship, Gen, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:13:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziva checks in with Gibbs and, in a subtle way, with Tony after she learns of the Sergei Mishnev incidents. Originally a tag to 'Cabin Fever'. Comes after the fic 'Shalom' [a part of a Ziva-Leaving Trilogy, the last of which is Aaliya]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Toda

**Author's Note:**

> set indiscriminately after season 11/12.

**_ Toda _ **

 

Anton Pavlenko was not the only visitor to his house that night; the difference was, he expected the Russian counselor – he did not expect the shock he received when he got up from the couch and ventured into the basement, though he was sure he hid it well. She was standing there in the shadows, ghost-like – and she felt like a ghost, for a moment, like so many women from his past; but as he blinked, and straightened a little, she stepped forward – a beam of light from the top of the stairs hit her – and he knew she was real.

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed, careful to get a good look – her hair was longer, wildly curly; untamed. She wore no make-up, she wore casual clothes, her shoulders didn’t seem so bent with the weight of the past – she looked younger, in a way, she looked like the Israeli he’d first met, before she became Americanized, but she also looked like a woman he’d never had the privilege of meeting. 

“Ziver,” he said finally, stepping closer. 

She smiled a little, and her eyes lit up.

She reached her arms out in a gesture of greeting, palms up, waiting for him to accept; he placed his fingers in hers and came to meet her with more confidence – how many times was he going to face her in this basement in moments that defined his life? She squeezed his hands, leaned forward, and pressed a chaste kiss of greeting to his cheek. She took a step back, still holding his hands, and squeezed them again, meeting his eyes intently.

“Diane,” she said quietly, and inclined her head respectfully. “I am so sorry, Jethro.”

 She expected the look of pain that struck his features, and she compressed her lips, sorry to see it. She knew better than anyone the kind of guilt that hung over him; she knew there was nothing she could do to assuage it. She tilted her head slightly.

“You blame yourself?”

He slipped his hands out of hers and moved past her, reaching for his bottle of whiskey. Silently, he offered her a share of the liquor; she shook her head, and said she didn’t drink – he noted that was new; she had never seemed to abstain before she left.

“Why not blame me?”

Her question was almost a challenge; brazen. He paused, about to take a sip of the bourbon, and he turned to stare at her.

“You?” he asked hoarsely, leaning against the counter.

He stared at her, unable to answer – why would he blame her? In what world was Sergei’s vendetta against Gibbs the fault of Ziva David –

“Me,” Ziva repeated coolly.

She crossed arms, facing him as an equal; not a colleague, not a surrogate daughter in search of help, but someone who sought to teach him something she had learned, if he was willing to listen. He held out his hand.

“Ziva, it’s got nothin’ to do with – “

She cut him off with a shake of her head.

“It has got everything to do with me,” she said clearly.

“You haven’t even been here,” Gibbs countered, his tone curt.

“If I had not ever been here, this Sergei Mishnev would not have, either.”

He set his jaw, wary of her direction, and she shrugged a little.

“I killed Ari,” she said – how many times had she confessed that, struggled with that – been destroyed by that? “There are four people in the world who knew that. One of them is dead.”

She meant her father, and he was taken aback for a moment. He sometimes forgot – that no one knew.

“You never told DiNozzo?” he asked unexpectedly.

The corner of her mouth turned up a little wryly, and she shook her head.

“I never told a soul,” she answered, and then she paused, and amended herself. “I told Deena Bashan.”

Gibbs nodded; he heard the name – DiNozzo had mentioned the woman; Ari’s lover, or some dramatic tale like that. Gibbs shook his head stubbornly, taking a long drink of the whiskey, clearing his throat. 

“It wasn’t your fault Ziva,” he scoffed.

“If Sergei Mishnev knew who killed Ari, he would be after me,” Ziva said simply. “He would be after the ones _I_ love – “

“Ends the same,” Gibbs interrupted sharply.

He met her eyes again, and she fell silent – she let it sink in. It was – it was correct; it was almost worse. Diane’s death was traumatic; it did smother him with guilt, it made him feel responsible for a motherless child – but his heart hadn’t broken when she’d died; if this mercenary had targeted Ziva, then Gibbs would have lost – people much closer to him; people who meant infinitely more to both Ziva and Gibbs.

Ziva inclined her head, stepping closer to him. She nodded, licking her lips thoughtfully.

“Yes,” she agreed. 

She stood quietly for a moment, looking at him.

“You do not blame me?”

“Ziver,” he began, frustrated, “You – men like Sergei, they’re bloodthirsty; they’re born killers – he was ruthless before Ari – he killed innocent people to get back at me,” Gibbs said curtly. “’S not your fault he’s a bastard – “ 

He broke off when he noticed the almost smug look in her eyes, the curve of her lips; as if she were mocking him – because he was making her argument for her. Every single reason he gave to absolve her, she could use on him.

Ziva pushed her hair back away from her face, running her fingers through it.

“It is not my fault,” she agreed. “It is not your fault.”

Gibbs looked at her skeptically.

“You left because you said we’re creating monsters,” he told her, quoting her words back to her.

“We are,” she said softly.

She swallowed, and shook her head.

“It is such a fine line,” she remarked. “When I killed,” she paused painfully, “Ari,” she went on: “I killed him to prevent the murders he would commit if he lived. He was rotten. There was nothing left of my brother.”

She took a deep breath.

“When I – fought Bodnar; when I killed him,” she said softly. “It was different. That was vengeance. He may have gone on to murder others, or it may have just been my father he wanted gone – but I did not kill him to protect; I wanted him dead.”

She swallowed, and rested her hand on the counter, keeping her eyes on his.

“I did not lose sleep over Bodnar,” she admitted. “I do not think you lost sleep over Pedro Hernandez.”

Gibbs’s face remained stoic, unreadable.

“Did Fornell kill Sergei Mishnev?” Ziva asked astutely.

Gibbs gave her a look of warning, but all the same, he nodded.

Ziva smiled sadly.

“Do you see the difference?” she asked hoarsely. “Between the killings of Ari – and these revenge killings?”

“You drop by to be my conscience, Ziva?” Gibbs asked gruffly. “’M not gonna lose sleep over this one, either.”

“I do not expect you to,” she said. “I do not expect Fornell will rest uneasy,” she conceded. “But this is why I did what I left – I began to think revenge was my right – since the death of my sister,” she took a deep breath. “I liked it,” she confessed. “And all it ever did – all it is still doing – is rise back up to strike back.”

He started to say something, but she held up her hand.

“I know I sound naïve,” she said. “I could argue that my father started this, when he created Ari; I could argue that Israel started this, when they created the need for men like my father – the first man who claimed he owned something started this – it is as much a cycle as anything.”

Gibbs considered her.

“Did you know Sergei?” he asked finally.

Ziva shook her head.

“Ari’s mother died before I was born; I thought he knew nothing of her. I had never heard of Sergei.”

He knew her answer was honest, and she turned to lean against the counter next to him, parting her lips hesitantly.

“He _was_ after me,” she told Gibbs quietly 

Gibbs turned his head, taken aback.

“He went after you?” he demanded.

Ziva looked up at him wryly.

“I am sure he understood well that there was no better way to harm you than to harm me.”

“All of us, Ziva,” Gibbs said pointedly.

She nodded, and looked up at the ceiling.

“He sought out Deena Bashan,” she revealed. She took a deep breath. “Deena told him I was dead. He thought she had no reason to lie, since she loved Ari – he knew she wanted retribution, as well.”

“Why’d she do it?” Gibbs asked – from what DiNozzo had told him, the woman had seemed to care little for Ziva’s well being, once she found out what had happened.

Ziva swallowed hard 

“She understands,” she said softly.

She fell silent a while, and then crossed her arms.

“She came to meet me – I’ve been in Colombia, with an old friend, for the past six months,” Ziva explained quietly. “She said it was the last she wanted to know of me, to know of any of the past – she told me who he was, who he was after, and she told me to him, I was dead.”

Gibbs listened intently. He grunted.

“That’s how you knew to keep an eye out,” he remarked.

“I broke my rules,” Ziva murmured. “I sought out an old Mossad contact, to monitor the situation.”

Gibbs turned his head and considered her.

“You in contact with anyone at NCIS?” he asked abruptly.

She shook her head. He believed her. She took a deep breath, and tilted her head towards him.

“These repercussions,” she said meaningfully. “This is what I mean. What if someone, somewhere, years ago, had stopped this? What if my father had let Ari’s mother live – would Ari have turned his back on us? What if someone had asked that a hotel not be bombed to fight for peace, so Tali would never have been killed – would I have joined Mossad?”

She took a deep breath.

“It sounds futile,” she asserted, “but it takes one person to break a chain of abuse.”

“There will always be some people that need to be dead, Ziva,” Gibbs said.

“I do not disagree with that,” she said sharply. “But that does not mean I have to kill them. It does not mean anyone has the right to kill them.”

Gibbs swallowed the rest of his bourbon, wondering what her intent was – he knew she was out on her own, redeeming herself – washing the red off her hands. He was too ingrained in his ways, too much of a soldier, to change – but a part of him admired her, for trying. He looked over at her. 

“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly.

She titled her head, thinking about it.

“I wanted to see that you were okay,” she said mildly. “That the people – I love – have survived this new monster, this other thing that I can trace back to a defining moment in my life.”

She pushed her hair back again.

“I think it is all over,” she said quietly. “Sergei Mishnev has no family; no friends. The Davids … are extinct; my mother’s people are gone.” She took a deep breath. “I can start over now; I can really start over.”

“How have you been, Ziva?” he asked sincerely.

She turned her head to him, and gave him a brilliant, warm smile – a genuine smile. He didn’t recognize it; he realized he’d never seen it before: this was a smile that had only ever graced the face of a young, unburdened Ziva he’d never known, and he was glad to see it.

“I took a vow of silence for a month in India,” she said lightly. “I – took ballet classes, in Australia, for six months. I did aid work in West Africa – _Medicines Sans Frontieres_ , during the peak of the Ebola crisis – humanitarian work in Colombia, recently.”

She licked her lips 

“I went to Hawaii. It is very beautiful there. 

Gibbs grinned at her.

“I am good,” she answered. “I am – better.”

He nodded, a hollow part of his chest feeling a little fuller.

“We miss you, Ziver,” he told her honestly.

She met his eyes warmly 

“ _Toda_ ,” she murmured.

He stood in silence for a moment, and then asked the obvious question –

“You comin’ back?”

She took a deep, thoughtful breath.

“I broke my rules,” she said, harking back to her earlier statement. “I contacted Mossad; I kept my eye on this case – so I am not ready. I am not removed, clean – yet,” she decided.

“You won’t ever come back to the work,” Gibbs guessed – he’d already known that, but like the others on the team, he had felt the hole; he had wondered if she could really stay away.

“No,” she said firmly. “But that does not mean I will not come back to the people.”

She licked her lips.

“This is my home,” she said. “It was – very difficult, for Tony to understand,” she admitted hoarsely. “That I would give up so much to belong here – and abandon it.” She swallowed. “But when I come back, it will be permanent. And everything … will fall into place.”

She laughed a little huskily.

“He does not understand that – it never would have worked, before I left. I have not known who I am since – my sister’s death. You cannot be with someone, let them know who you are, and be with them – if you do not know yourself.”

Gibbs grunted, a little amused by how wise she sounded – it was something he wished he’d learned before he put a series of women through hell trying to make himself stop hurting.

“You gonna go tell Tony that?” he asked pointedly, giving her a paternal look.

 “You sound like a – Cupid,” Ziva laughed gently. She bit her lip. “He is with someone, is he not?”

 Gibbs hesitated, looking at her carefully.

“Do not lie to me,” she chided good-naturedly.

“Name’s Zoe Keates,” Gibbs grunted. He shrugged. “Don’t know how serious it is.”

Ziva shrugged.

“I will not drop in on him and turn everything upside down just to tell him I am not where I want to be – yet,” she decided calmly. “I want Tony to be happy,” she said finally. “ _That_ is loving someone. It would not mean much if I wished him misery, or loneliness, of demanded his faith in me when I do not even have it in myself, quite yet. If I lose him because I am trying to be healthy, but he is happy, I can live with that.”

Gibbs studied her a moment, and then he smirked.

“Mature,” he drawled, and gave her a wry look. “You won’t.”

“I will not – what?”

“Lose ‘im.”

Ziva laughed hoarsely, blinking her eyes. She shook her head.

“You are trying to marry me off,” she teased. “Like a, a – “

“Father?” he tried glibly.

She nodded.

“But I think you know something I do not, about Tony,” she said, a bit wistfully.

Gibbs hesitated, and he cleared is throat.

“I know Keates is gonna realize that she doesn’t have all of ‘im,” he said gruffly. “Even if you never came back – she’d know he was just settlin’.”

“You think?” Ziva asked quietly.

He gave her a meaningful look.

“You know how many times I settled?” he asked pointedly – he knew what he was talking about, when it came to women that you couldn’t replace or forg

She smiled to herself, her cheeks flushing. She pushed back that hair again, and he wondered why she kept it so long – it looked like a hassle. He thought about telling her to go see Tony anyway, but then DiNozzo would be useless for days – and DiNozzo was in a good limbo right now.

 Ziva took a deep breath.

“I have a late flight to Tokyo,” she murmured.

Gibbs arched his eyebrows, but he didn’t ask what she was doing there; he assumed it was personal, another step on her journey. She tilted her head, and reached out her hands to him again.

“I am almost there, Jethro,” she said.

Instead of taking her hands, he leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her in a tight, paternal hug; he was glad she had dropped in – he was glad to know she was getting what she needed, that it was worth it – if he could see this girl safe and happy and permanent one day, he’d consider some of the pain in his life to be worthwhile.

He pressed a kiss to her temple, and nodded gruffly.

“See you soon, Ziver,” he said firmly.

“Shalom,” she murmured, turning on her heel.

She paused on the stairs, and gave him a wry look.

“I will meet this Ellie,” she said prophetically. She gave him a sly sort of smile. “I think we could get along. 

Gibbs grinned, and shrugged. 

“You’re both hell on DiNozzo.”

Ziva laughed – and the sound echoed for hours, as he poured another glass of bourbon, and ruminated over her short visit – it was a more promising parting than their last, brief, sore phone call – and he could wait patiently for the day she was at peace enough to make her final _aliyah_.

**Author's Note:**

> originally published under the same name elsewhere.


End file.
